海角大神

Greta Gerwig鈥檚 new film adaptation of 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� begins with Jo March, the heroine, squirming as an editor cuts full pages from her story 鈥� skimming and slamming them on his desk like a judge with his gavel. Then the editor accepts it (for less money than usual) and offers Jo some advice: 鈥淧eople want to be amused, not preached at. Morals don鈥檛 sell nowadays.鈥澛�

His comment is a bit of fun for Ms. Gerwig, the writer-director, as it applies as much to today as to Jo鈥檚 world in the 1860s. First published more than 150 years ago, 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� has been a surprisingly limber tale 鈥� adapted into everything from a comic strip to an opera. Each generation gets its own version, and each version stretches to fit the time in which it鈥檚 received. In every iteration, the editor鈥檚 unspoken question remains relevant: What sells nowadays?聽

For Ms. Gerwig, the answer is empowerment. Bookended by business discussions between Jo and her glib editor, the film is itself a negotiation: between fact and fiction, author and audience, and the Americas of 1868 and 2019. Now on its sixth trip to movie theaters, 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� is back perhaps for the first time on Louisa May Alcott鈥檚 original terms.聽

鈥淸Ms. Gerwig鈥檚] knowledge of the book and then her interest in the real woman behind Jo March ... really informs the way she made the film, because she was able to sort of go underneath the story without changing the story,鈥� says Jan Turnquist, executive director of Louisa May Alcott鈥檚 Orchard House in Concord, Massachusetts, who worked as a consultant for the film. 鈥淯nderneath you see and feel emotion and ambition that isn鈥檛 necessarily stated outright in the story, but it鈥檚 there.鈥�

A wider view of women

Published in two parts in 1868 and 1869, 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� immediately stood out in an America unaccustomed to realistic books about women, says Anne Phillips, an English professor and Alcott expert at Kansas State University. The March sisters, says Professor Phillips, 鈥減lay and they savor life and they have intellectual and artistic ambitions. It鈥檚 just a world of difference from what else was out there for young women in the time it was produced.鈥�

At a time when 9 out of 10 women got married, says Professor Phillips, 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� actually explores female goals outside domestic life. More than just wives-to-be, the March sisters pursue their dreams, what they call 鈥渃astles in the air.鈥� Jo longs for literary fame, Meg wants 鈥渉eaps of money,鈥� Amy鈥檚 鈥渕odest desire鈥� is to be the world鈥檚 greatest painter, and Beth 鈥� the golden child (there鈥檚 always one) 鈥� just wants to stay home and play piano.

The novel鈥檚 progressive style and plot reflect its author 鈥� herself unconventional and forward-thinking. Alcott came from an abolitionist family and was the first woman in her town to vote. She was bold when girls were expected to be modest, an athlete who enjoyed playing alongside, and often outracing, boys, says Orchard House鈥檚 Ms. Turnquist.聽

Ms. Gerwig鈥檚 film emphasizes these same traits in Alcott鈥檚 characters. Rarely 鈥渓ittle,鈥� the March sisters are spunky and assertive as they test the boundaries of what鈥檚 permissible for young women in their day. Unlike previous movie versions, such as Gillian Armstrong鈥檚 1994 version with Winona Ryder as Jo and Mervyn LeRoy鈥檚 1949 epic starring Elizabeth Taylor as Amy, the March sisters by and large worry less about acting proper.

Meanwhile, the relatively few men remain meek and mild 鈥� particularly Timoth茅e Chalamet who as Theodore 鈥淟aurie鈥� Laurence, the main male lead, looks fragile next to pugilistic Jo (Saoirse Ronan) and charmingly petulant Amy (Florence Pugh).聽

Casting outspoken feminist Emma Watson as Meg, the most domestic of the sisters, also challenges common perceptions of female empowerment. When on Meg鈥檚 marriage day, Jo asks her older sister to call it off, Meg responds, 鈥淛ust because my dreams are different than yours doesn鈥檛 mean they鈥檙e unimportant.鈥澛�

Even gentle, content Beth becomes Jo鈥檚 muse later in the film, spurring her sister鈥檚 writing as male criticism never could. It鈥檚 this relationship that helps set Ms. Gerwig鈥檚 adaptation apart, along with the made-over Friedrich Bhaer, who hardly resembles Jo鈥檚 poor and plain professor husband in the book.

For an adaptation so loyal to its source material, the change is deliberate. At the film鈥檚 end, an ambiguous twist makes it clear that the new (and improved) Bhaer is a sign of empowerment for the heroine.

Alcott compromises, Gerwig doesn鈥檛

When the second part of 鈥淟ittle Women鈥� was published 150 years ago, Alcott鈥檚 editor and audience pressured her to marry off her highly autobiographical heroine. Coupling her with Bhaer, rather than rich and handsome Laurie, was the author鈥檚 act of rebellion, challenging reader expectations of the day. 鈥淕irls write to ask who the little women marry, as if that was the only end and aim of a woman鈥檚 life,鈥� Alcott wrote in her journal. 鈥淚 won鈥檛 marry Jo to Laurie to please anyone.鈥�

In 1869, Alcott compromised her novel to partially meet the demands of her audience. In 2019, Ms. Gerwig retells the story for an age that imagines more futures for women than as brides. The perseverance required to achieve that ending, though, communicates in some ways how little things have changed 鈥� and thus why the story is still relevant, says Greg Eiselein, an English professor who researches Alcott with Dr. Phillips at Kansas State.

鈥淲omen still struggle with confinement, with expectations, which hold them back in various ways,鈥� he says. 鈥淎nd that can be frustrating, but also encouragement to keep on 鈥� to keep on trying, even when the publisher says, 鈥業 don鈥檛 like your novel.鈥欌��